


Between a Tree and a Hard Place

by My_Dear_Watson



Series: Locked Out of Eden [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Crack and UST, F/M, then Angst and Slightly Resolved UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-05-04 17:31:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14598099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Dear_Watson/pseuds/My_Dear_Watson
Summary: “Hey. Hey, Asshole.”John picked up the radio hanging off the edge of the table and hit talk on the radio, grinning all the while. “Deputy! This is a first. Miss me already?”“Yes. Come get me.”His smile dropped immediately. “Yes?”“No, notthat‘yes.’ I miss your crazy mug. Come get me.”Or:  Things don’t exactly go smoothly during Deputy Nicolette Raylan’s first escape from John’s bunker. John is cautious but delighted.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My game did me dirty by having me get stuck between two trees when I was escaping John's bunker, and I was telling a friend about it, and it ended up being a fic prompt because she’s a horrible, horrible enabler.

_“Hey. Hey, Asshole_.”

John glanced up from his workbench when he heard the voice on the radio. He had just finished putting Deputy Hudson through the motions after he had let Deputy Raylan escape. A skim of his knife there, a hand at her neck and a hissed threat there.

He hadn’t expected to hear from the Deputy so soon. _Literally_. It had been a grand total of about ten minutes since he had told her to run and become Wrath. He greatly enjoyed their game of cat and mouse. Cutting it so short would’ve been a sin in and of itself. He had been so, so delighted when she had escaped that chair so quickly.

Of course, he had made it easy for her intentionally, but her timing was a nice touch.

So this… this was _interesting_. He picked up the radio hanging off the edge of the table and hit talk, grinning all the while. “Deputy! This is a first. Miss me already?”

“ _Yes. Come get me_.”

His smile dropped immediately. “ _Yes_?”

 _“No, not **that**  ‘yes.’ Yes, I missed your crazy  mug. Come get me_.”

He leaned on the table. “Color me intrigued, Deputy.”

“ _God, do you ever shut up? Just… come get me. I’m only a few hundred feet southwest of your bunker_.”

It was most definitely a trap. Nicolette Raylan was a special sort of stupid-smart to set it up but make it blatantly obvious. Alas, he never backed down from a challenge. And she was several challenges, all wrapped in an infuriatingly gorgeous package. “I’ll be right there. Don’t go anywhere.”

There was an extremely dry laugh on the other end, but she didn’t respond.

He cracked his neck, retrieved his jacket, and slipped it on. He made his way out of the bunker, telling his men he’d be back in ten, and if he wasn’t, send a patrol out to get him.  He headed southwest for a few paces. When there was no trace of her, he clicked the radio on again. “Alright, my dear. You’ll have to be a bit more specific than southwest.”

A gunshot rang out a few yards away, the source entirely blocked by foliage. He grinned and advanced towards the noise.

When he finally reached the source, he promptly stopped in his tracks and stared. And then laughed. It might have even qualified as _giggling_.

His Lady Wrath was wedged between the space of a split-trunk tree, thrashing about every so often to try and dislodge herself to no avail.

It was one of the greatest things he had ever seen. The woman who had just about ruined the last few weeks of his life was literally stuck in a tree. After he had tried to many times to take her down, nature was her undoing. 

“There you are. Get me out of this,” she hissed.

He glanced around the surrounding area. It sounded like a pistol shot, so she had six rounds. She had fired one off to tip him off, and four of his men were dead, scattered around her. That left one. He gave her a pointed look.

She rolled her eyes, raised the pistol, and fired off her final round. “Happy now?”

“Ooh, Deputy. This… I don’t know who this is more embarrassing for: you, or me. I’ve been singing your praises to Jacob for a little while now. I thought you gave a good chase when being hunted. But this? This just about ruins all that buildup. He’ll be so disappointed in you _and_ me,” he giggled again.

She rolled her eyes. “Just help me.”

“And why would I do that?” John countered.

“Because you like your little game of cat and mouse and you know it. I mean, letting me escape just now? Come on. You had me right where you wanted and you cut me loose. The chair, the doors. That little smile when you saw me in the window.”  

John strolled over to her. “I don’t think you’re in the spot to be mocking me now, are you?”

“Can't help it. Comes with the personality. Non-refundable.”

John grinned, then advanced on her so his chest was level to her shoulder. He leaned towards her ear. “And how, praytell, did this even happen?”

She nodded towards two bodies of his men off to the left. “Those assholes were right behind me, and those assholes-” she motioned at the ones on the right, “-cut me off at a pass here. Had to dodge them, didn’t see the other trunk in my peripheral vision.”

John hummed. “I appreciate the honesty for once,” he looked her over. “As well as the sight of you, struggling and potentially at my mercy, all alone.” He glanced up the line of her stomach and chest, exposed from his tearing and the tree separating the ends. Oh, he was going to have so much fun with this. He ran the back of his fingers along her arm and delighted in her little shiver in response. Maybe he wasn’t the only one so affected by their time together.

“You’d take advantage of a girl in the woods? Doesn’t seem your style.”

“Oh, it’s not. My policy is ‘yes.’. I like my partners _begging for more_ on that front. Just saying, this is quite the sight.”

“Ugh. I liked the ‘if these walls could scream’ line better. And I still don’t even know if that was a line or not.”

Oh, how he _adored_ this one. She had  _such spirit_. He  _almost_ didn’t want to break her. “Only if you want it to be.”

“God, now I owe Sharky twenty bucks. Thanks for that. Stop thinking with your dick and being lustful for five seconds and- I don’t know, put your weight on that side or something.”

He doesn’t know what possessed him to do so, but he obeyed. Maybe it was because she had a point about the game of cat and mouse. She did give such a good chase.  He looked at her, and without breaking eye contact, reached up and pulled at the highest point of the trunk. The tree gave a bit after a while, and she immediately slipped down a bit. The advantages and disadvantages of being a tiny little thing, all in one go. Get stuck between trunks that were barely a foot each across, but get out easily. 

She pushed herself out from between the trunks and stumbled at the last second. He caught her around the arm at the last second and grinned when she leaned into him, if only for a moment before she immediately pushed off of him.

She gave him a half-lidded look and bit her lip. It went straight to his abdomen, but he could just taste the trap coming but couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was going to have to go over his ‘Lust’ tattoo at least three times at this rate. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she took her turn to run her hand up his arm.

“Thanks, Sailor. Same time next week?”

“I think I can allow a head start. I’m sure Jacob’s people are around here somewhere. He’ll find out. I just need him to forget it.”

Her answering smirk put his own to shame. She arched her hips up and bit to get close to him, and licked her lips, and the idea of her still being a threat was immediately wiped from his mind, considering all of his blood was determined to flow significantly lower. She tilted her head up and opened her mouth, and he moved closer on instinct-

“Game on,” she whispered in his ear.  

His brain had finally seemed to restart a moment before she had said it because he remembered she still had her damned pistol, and he had barely registered her statement before something had collided with the side of his head and he was out like a light.

He came to some time later with three of his man standing over him, muttering to each other in a panic. He shot upright, dimly aware of his people blurting out little details. They found him alone. The Deputy was nowhere in sight and had taken an outpost since her escape. He waved them off.

A week. She had requested a week. And he’d give it to her. And then make her pay.

“Game on, Deputy.”


	2. Lil' Red Riding Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a Tumblr prompt for John/Deputy and I ended up making a loose sequel to the first chapter. This ship is taking over my life.

Two weeks had passed since the Tree Incident between John and the Deputy. And the  _bane of his existence_  had just finished off blowing up every silo in the area, according to the last reports that had come in a matter of moments ago. His people had at least listened and known he wasn’t fucking around when he asked for immediate updates on her progress. He had flipped on the radio to find the Deputy’s frequency, only to hear Kim Rye halfway through congratulating her on destroying the last silo. He waited with a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel of his car for her to stop, and once she did, he jammed his finger onto the talk button. “Deputy! That’s not very nice. However you feel about my brothers, sister and I, you’re still ruining supplies for the innocent people we’ve taken in.”

There was silence for a few moments. Then, just as adamantly as he had spoken: “I know they’re full of Bliss, you ass, don’t even try to bullshit me.”

“Ah, you’ve done your research. At least you’re an educated nuisance.”

“Takes one to know one, right?” 

John laughed at that, fully willing to admit he had walked right into that setup. The laugh died in his throat when he saw a pillar of smoke rising from the woods, barely a two minute drive away.

Nicolette never drove a damn car in the valley unless it was absolutely necessary or she knew he was coming after her, so this was going to be fun. He was going to be the hunter for once. There was no way she had made it that far. He drove a few hundred more feet, turned the car off and got out. He fished out a couple of bliss bullets from his pocket he had been saving for just this occasion when he stopped in his tracks.

There she was, a matter of yards away, sneaking through the woods. The fact she had donned some oversized red hoodie in addition to those infuriatingly short shorts forced an amused scoff out of him. He had been the wolf to the Woodson’s three little pigs a while ago, and now here he was, ready to be the wolf to her Little Red Riding Hood. Oh, this would be fun. He made quick work of slipping into the treeline.

She hadn’t even sensed him. He had heard Jacob had started to notice her as of late. Maybe he’d whip her into shape. Or he’d end her- hardly a preferable option, but the fact that she was none the wiser to a threat was ridiculous. He made it within a few feet of her, timing his steps with hers just to add precaution against the noise he made.

She finally seemed to sense something off because she stopped in her tracks, scanned the treeline in front of her and opened her mouth to call out, and he lunged.

The pair of them went down hard, and he had half a mind to notice that he let his arm shoot out to take most of the impact before her head did- something to overanalyze later, he was sure.

She cried out and thrashed for a while until he came into focus, and the fight in her immediately dropped, and he was pretty sure he saw her roll her eyes. “Ugh. You.”

“ _Me_. You know, you called this a game last time…” he mused and leaned over and let his mouth hover a couple of inches above hers. “ _Checkmate_.”

“Can you just Bliss me, because I swear to God if I have to listen to you wax poetic one more time…”

He did enjoy her spirit. “As you wish, Deputy.” He reached down, retrieved a bliss-laced shell casing he had also held onto just in case the hunt for her took him to a place he could access a shotgun- as it often did, and cracked it open at chest level. He blinked a few times, trying to rid his vision of the white spots that dotted it after a while.

She groaned again and before long, she went limp.

He hauled her to her feet then over his shoulder, stumbling for a couple of steps as he went as the Bliss tried to work its way into his own system. _Fucking Bliss._

He made it back to his car, loaded her into the co-passenger seat (he’d rather risk her there than in the trunk) and drove back to his bunker.  

When they made it there, he shook her awake, surprised at how gentle he had done it. “Come on now, sleeping on the job doesn’t bode well for you.”

She groaned again, then smacked his hands away. She looked around, then sighed at her surroundings, and then at the hood of his car. “You _would_ have a Charger…” she muttered to herself.

He fought the urge to respond, then exited the car in order to pull her out of it. “Up and at ‘em.”

“I can walk,” she protested, making a weak- was that supposed to be stepping? - motion at his knee closest to her in order to keep him away from her.

“And how would that work for you? It would be a vote of confidence _for me_ to my people; having you walk with me around the grounds, but for Hudson? Imagine that, her own rescuer walking along casually with me.”

“Kind of hard not to tell I’m on Bliss right now," she spat. 

“You know that, I know that, but does _she_?”

She groaned. “Put your hands anywhere near my ass and I’m clawing your throat out.”

“I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

“I doubt that,” she muttered, and then promptly went limp against him, apparently lost to the Bliss again.

It was his turn to roll his eyes. He got her situated on his shoulder, surprising himself yet again when he abided by her single rule, and headed inside.

She was going to be the death of him, he knew it.

He unceremoniously dropped her into the chair he had put her in the last time. It had been ten minutes since, and he had given her arm a couple of whacks for good measure, but she was still out cold. Maybe she had just had a rough few days and her body needed the rest, considering he had barely dosed her. He had almost been tempted to go get the tattoo gun til he ruled that no, she needed to be awake for that. He wouldn’t have her atonement begin when she was unconscious and unaware.  Another few minutes passed, and he was bored. He retrieved a bucket from one of the rooms nearby, filled it with water, came back and tossed the contents onto her.

She came to with a shriek. She looked around, shoved her hair out of her face, realized where she was and whose company she was in and deflated as much as she had when he had pinned her down in the woods.

John leaned back on the table. “So, here we are again, Little Red.”

She squinted at him, then realization dawned on her. She motioned at her clothing. “Right. The sweatshirt. Original.”

John merely smiled in response. “I’ll ask again. Are you ready to confess, are you ready to say ‘yes’?”  

She stared at him for a few seconds, and then laughed- nothing like the rough, sarcastic laugh he had been on the receiving end of from her many times.

He ignored her, figuring she was still finding her way out of the Bliss. It wouldn’t be the first time people had struggled with it, and the rude awakening probably didn’t help, but he did want to get things moving. “You’ve had your fun, you put up a good fight, but aren’t you _tired_?” he walked back over to the chair and put his hand on it, bending his arm at the elbow to loom over her.

She shrugged, still smiling. “Of this situation? No, not really. Of you? Yes.”

He brought his free hand to grip her throat. “Now, we’ve been over wrath… I’m sure you can think of something else you’re guilty of.”

She was laughing. Again.

He snarled and tightened his grip on her and she finally, finally flinched before scoffing again. “Problem, Deputy?” he asked.

“Yes: You.”

“Pride,” he cut her off. “Wouldn’t have taken you for being prideful-”

“Thought you would’ve known I’m full of surprises by now,” she countered.

“I do. Now, if we can just get on with this. It’s just one word. And then you can tell me anything. Everything.”

“Wouldn’t that be more than one word?” she countered.

He tightened his grip again. “Do you really want to test me right now?”

She beamed again. “That’s… kind of part of the job description nowadays. Not my fault you let me get away with it.”

He forced himself up into her space, chest to chest, nose to nose. “You know, the people of this county see me as the crazy one. They should see you now, laughing away. Quit. Smiling. Confession is a serious matter. You’d do well to stop so I can say my piece. I am growing tired of your interruptions.”

She opened her mouth, to sass him back, no doubt- but then, damn it, that smile again. “Can’t say a full sentence just because I’m smiling? _Oh, John_ \- _heh_ , do I _distract_ you?”

He wanted that smile off her face.  to rip her throat out. He wanted to strangle her. He wanted to… _something_. He inched forward again and tried not to look alarmed when she came back at him so their noses bumped. No one had the balls to push back that much when he pushed them. She was something. He realized how heavy he was breathing over nothing and went to look away- only to glance at her lips a half moment too long. How easy would it be to win this particular round just by closing that particular distance. Taste her, sate his curiosity, throw her off her game for once instead of her doing it to him.   

The radio in the opposite corner crackled to life. “John?”

He hissed and pulled back and stalked over to the radio. It was Owens, one of the dumbest people in his ranks. Of course he’d interrupt this. “What?! I’ve got the Deputy here, this better be worth my time.”

“It’s Sharky Boshaw. He showed up at the Ranch, started burning the fields. It’s almost to the house.”

John tensed, then slammed his hand into the transmitter. “Then stop the fire, find him, and kill him!” he turned back to Nicolette. “Your boyfriend isn’t surviving the night,” he hissed, jabbing a finger in her direction. He tore out of the room and went to exit the bunker, taking the steps two at a time.  He made it out, crossed to the top of the hill and looked out towards the ranch. Knowing Boshaw, the man would’ve been done as much damage as possible in a short time. But there were no smoke plumes- not even anything resembling a cloud in the sky.  He hit the transmitter again. “Owens, what the fuck is going on?!”

A voice that definitely was not Owens responded: “Hey there, John! Your buddy Owens can’t come to the radio right now on account of him being a touch dead!”

He’d recognize Sharky Boshaw’s grating voice anywhere.

To add insult to injury, the man practically cackled. “Man, what a trap that was. And you walked right into it. For a lawyer, you really are a dumbshit.”

John yelled out, then turned sharply and tore back into the bunker. He made it into the room he had Nicolette in, and naturally, she was gone. That’s what he got for trusting Bliss over her goddamn reputation. It was a mistake he wasn’t going to make again.

He went back outside, got up on one of the rocks that provided a decent vantage point of the surrounding area.

Sure enough, there she was, nothing but a red dot just before the horizon, headed east. Too far ahead to catch anytime soon on foot, and she’d be clear out of sniper rifle range if he went to go get one of his people or a gun himself.

She’d won. Again.

“Is that Nicolette?”

John nearly jumped at the voice that was suddenly beside him.

It was Nancy, the wolf in sheep’s clothing in the H.C.P.D that helped gift wrap the Sheriff and the Deputies’ arrival… but still seemed to root for them nearly equally as she did for the Project. She was wearing that same, angry-but-impressed look on her face that she usually got any time she heard about the Deputy's antics. Of course, his own facial expression faltered when he realized his matched hers at that moment.

Nancy looked him up and down, stuck out one lip and nodded. “Told you you’d like her. Your secret’s safe with me.”

John nearly choked on his tongue and gave the woman an incredulous look as she headed back into the bunker like the conversation hadn’t happened. They had probably sent her to check on why the Hell he was running back and forth so quickly, and his heart pounded, wondering just what story she was going to give them.

_Fucking Nancy._

He was about to go storming back into the bunker to do potential damage control sulk and figure out another plan, but then realized it was best if he headed home. Sure, the threat on the Ranch had been a ploy, Owens had probably been nowhere near the ranch, but now wherever he and Sharky had been, Nicolette and Sharky knew _he wasn’t_ , and it was open for attack. He got into his car, floored the gas, and made it home within a few minutes.

After a few patrols of his own, he was finally satisfied no one was around aside from his own people. He went inside, dropped into the chair beside the radio in the great room and clicked the transmitter. “Oh Deputy…” he sing-songed.

“ _Miss me already, John_?” she responded after a moment.

He couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. The very thing he had asked her minutes before he learned about the Tree Incident during her first escape. “I _always_ miss you. I’m afraid this time it was literal. I’m just making sure you’re not stuck in a tree again.”

“Tree free.”

“Good. Shame, though. Would’ve enjoyed playing the hero again.”

“ _Mm-hm. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few things to blow up in Jacob’s territory so we can finally be introduced._ ”

“Ah. Fair warning, dear, Jacob’s far less kind than I am. Do be careful when you pay my brother a visit. I never told you about what goes on in the mountains.”

“ _Oh?_ ”

He flinched  What the Hell was he doing, she was the enemy, the thorn in his side, the bane of his existence. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. Just… do keep your wits about you. I’d hate to see that pretty little brain of yours focused on something else other than our time together.”

“ _Bye, John_.”

“Goodbye, Deputy. Do make sure you come back to me.”

The radio was silent after that. He leaned back and shut his off. He hadn’t meant to extend the warning. She was interesting, but she was the enemy. Why the Hell had he done it? Why the Hell was he worried? Not about the situation but the Deputy herself? He swore under his breath. He needed to check himself and his vested interest in the woman. He glanced up when the door opened. He shoved the radio out of reach.

“Hey, Boss. Joseph’s coming up the road.”

Right, because things couldn’t possibly get worse- and he couldn’t be more torn about the entire situation at hand. He inhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair and over his clothes to try to collect himself. Another time, Deputy. Another time.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”


	3. Game Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we go, another unexpected addition. A couple of friends on Tumblr got me to continue this bit to fully develop this to fit New Divide/ flesh out just why the team-up started with very little resistance, so here we are with another chapter, and one left to go... I hope.

_It don't mean a thing 'cause I don't wanna mess around with a joker_  
_And I don't really care 'cause this is my life, not a game of poker_  
_And I don't give a damn, my heart may be drunk but my mind is sober_  
_So can you get the gist, time to make a move 'cause the game is over_

_\- "Game Over" VV Brown_

* * *

 

 

John was torn. Again.

His dear Lady Wrath hadn’t been in the Valley in weeks, and she had been busy.

The last thing she had done in the Valley was taking out the Revelator. That had infuriated him. The Revelator had been a special mission of his own. He was starting to come to terms with accepting that the Deputy was more than a thorn in his side. She was every part _his_ Lady Wrath- the only other person in the county that shared his primary sin. But he had a duty to the Project, a duty to his brother. And he could  not risk ruining that.

 _“ Rescue me from all my sins, let me not be derived by fools_ ” he had painted the plea on the truck himself. The people would expect it was directed at them, but no, it was directed at himself- a behemoth of an armored truck bearing a reminded for himself not to stray from the Path. The truck would take down anything in its way and be as strong as he needed to remain against falling to the Deputy’s grace and betray the one person in his life that still mattered to him entirely.

_And the Deputy had blown it to Hell with two tiny explosives thrown at the right time._

There was another metaphor in there, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Afterward, she hadn’t heeded his warning about Jacob. She had gone to Jacob’s territory after that, and the last he heard on that front, she had gone through Hell, but escaped with Deputy Pratt’s assistance. He had gone to the Mountains to oversee a couple of operations and had visited Jacob the day after and had seen Pratt beaten half to death for his boldness- his weakness, Jacob had called it. Seeing Jacob be capable of such a thing after being his protector in his childhood set a knot in John’s stomach that still hadn’t entirely left. He wanted to know why it had taken so long for it to happen, in hindsight.

The Deputy hadn’t returned to the Mountains since. Instead, she continued to ignore his warnings and had gone to Faith’s territory directly after that. She had laid low for a while, and then one day he had heard she had taken back the prison. Faith had tried to manipulate her onto their side, but it hadn’t worked. He’d admit that there was some envy in him that it hadn’t worked. He still had a chance of getting her to see things their way _himself._ And he’d be damned if he lost the opportunity to any of his siblings.

And then Faith had taken the Prison back _again_. And there were varying, conflicting details about what had happened. John just knew Burke was dead… as was Faith, according to the last few minutes of reports coming in from the East.

Joseph’s response had been immediate- a eulogy that even felt hollow to John.

He hadn’t been close to Faith- he was in charge of finances and property in the county, so his work had kept him busy when this Faith had been around. They had really only exchanged glances and short updates at best in the last few weeks. He was… indifferent, admittedly.

So why the Hell had there been another knot in his stomach since hearing about it?

He had been stewing for minutes after the eulogy, pointedly ignoring Joseph’s radio calls. He had successfully managed to drown out the white noise it had dulled to until a decidedly different pitch came through it.

“ _Ooooh Jooooohhhhnnnnn_ ,” the voice sing-songed. There was a nearly hysterical laugh, but it cut out with a weak cough “ _Bold and brave. God, for a really pretentious song it’s a fuckin’ earworm. Are you there?_ ”

John’s head snapped up. He knew that voice. That was the Deputy’s voice. But something was… amiss. He snatched up the receiver. “Deputy. Come to gloat about killing Faith?”

 _“No. Just… realized somethin’. Figure’... I don’t know. I owe you, I guess. Makin’ up for… th’ Tree Incident._ ”

She was slurring her words. This was… new. “Are you drunk?” his voice betray him as he spoke, sounding far more concerned than necessary- or he thought he was.

“ _No, just… Blissed to all Hell. Have your sister to thank for that._ ”

No, no, that wasn’t it. John knew it. “Where are you?”

“ _What? I tell you, you come running, take me to the bunker, try to get me to Confess again_?”

John scoffed, though there was no real animosity behind it. “For you? I’ll make an exception. We  _did_ have a conversation about me only doing things to you with consent, after all.”

“ _Do me a favor, John. Never use the words ‘only’ and ‘you’ in the same sentence in my presence again,_ ” she snapped, every ounce of humor that had been in her voice moments ago suddenly gone.

That had sounded weak, even for her. Her heart wasn’t in the response. “Where are you, Deputy?” he repeated.

There was another weak laugh on her end. “ _... Is it romantic if I call this thing ‘Our Tree’? Because fuck that, but that’s all I got for it right now. Figured I might make this one easy for you_.”

“If you were just by the Henbane, how the Hell did you get here?” he asked.

“ _I.. don’t know? Look, I get to some weird places while Blissed or… Only You’d out, alright? I stopped questioning it, you should too_.”

John was up and out of his chair within a couple of seconds. He hadn’t expected her to give up that location that quickly.  It had to have been a trap. Well, then maybe he would go back on his word, after all. He got up, retrieved his jacket and made his way out of the bunker.

The walk to that damned split tree was hauntingly quiet- not quiet enough to make him suspicious, but absolutely nothing was going on. When he finally saw the designated treeline and found that he didn’t get shot at, he didn’t know what to think. “Oh, Deputy!” he called, pointer finger tapping the trigger of his gun every so often for good measure.

“Hey, John!” came the response.

Now that definitely meant something was wrong. He walked over to the tree, raising his pistol as he went. He saw her leaning on the other side of it and circled around to face her- and his heart dropped of its own accord.

She was pale, _definitely_ blissed out like she had said if her dazed look was any indication-

Or it could’ve been the _blood loss_ , considering her chest was _covered in it,_ with clear wounds of some sort littering the area.

“Nicol…” her name died in his throat. _No_. He couldn’t let her in on how damned important she was to him- that he cared enough to know her name. He couldn’t allow _himself_ the _weakness_.

The thought didn’t stop him from dropping to his knees in front of her, though. “What…?”

She blinked at him, then looked down and made a face like she had forgotten there was the _distinct possibility she was bleeding out_. “I uh… killed your sister. Funny thing is she might’ve killed me now, too. Do these look like knife wounds to you? Because any time I look at them they look all fuzzy and I can’t tell.”

“Focus, Deputy. Why call me? Not Charlemagne, Nick?” he asked cautiously.

She shook her head. “They’d make a big to-do about it. N’ I couldn’t do that to them.”

John glanced down at her wounds, still trying to figure out what the Hell Faith had done to her. “Now now, it’s a sin to tell a lie. Is this… state you’re in making you reconsider things? Do you wish to Confess? We never did finish yours.”

She scoffed, though it was lost to another cough. “Fuck no. You know that…” she blinked a couple of times “Well, no, I guess it does count as Confession.”

John tried to fight the weak smile that the first sentiment. She wasn’t wrong. But the way she followed it up made all the difference. “I prefer confessions with people who are entirely aware.”

She let out another laugh, and he shushed her- yet another parallel to one of their first moments. He had shushed her all those months ago, then promptly tried to end her life, now there he was, shushing her as she was possibly dying, and he was terrified of losing the other other Wrath incarnate he had ever met. She was the enemy, yes, but the only worthy enemy he’d had yet.

“What, you don’t wanna hear that you were right? That I _am_ Wrath?” the humor was gone from her voice again, and she spat out the sin like it was poisonous.

John looked at her expectantly.

“Faith took Earl,” she said quietly. “Whitehorse,” she clarified. “I… “  she fiddled with her hands. “You and I almost have a memory in common, John. When I was a teenager, I… we… there was one night…my father came home pissed as all Hell...  my mom and I almost died. Shit happened. Whitehorse showed up, got us out of it. I owe him my life. And your fucking sister took him,” she spat the last bit, but John didn’t fail to notice she had started to shake. “I saw red- kinda nice seeing red _metaphorically_ for the first time in a while. Anyway, she almost made me watch him hang himself. Whether it was him trying to break free of her hold or her controlling him like Burke, I just…” she looked at her bloodied hands. “Faith and I had our showdown and I killed her, or thought I did. She got all… smokey…” she tilted her head, “Blissy? That sounds more like it. Point is, I snapped out of it a bit and her body was still there but I was still _so, so_ angry and and I just... kept going… and going, and going…” her eyes flicked from the gun laying a couple of feet away.

John absorbed the information. He had read on her file that there had been some... conflict with her father. He hadn't expected it would have been that bad. Still, he dug himself out of his thoughts and his own memories of being in the same spot when he noticed her eyeing the gun. He saw it and scooted between her and the weapon, sliding it backward with the ball of his foot for good measure. He looked back at her.

She let out another bitter laugh and motioned at her hands. “Didn’t stop me. Fists worked just fine when I ran outta bullets…”  her lip quivered and she blinked rapidly. “I didn’t think I- I’m not- that wasn’t even…” she sighed, then, far darker. “You don’t fuck with the only good thing in my life.”

“Why tell me this now?” John asked.

“Because if I was gonna give this whole religion thing another try, I might as well do it now, and well, you are the Inquisitor… Baptist, whatever.”

“And not Jerome?”

“Again, bleeding out. Don’t wanna die in front of anyone.”

“So dying in front of the enemy is preferable," John mused and tried not to sound as put off as he felt. 

“Well, yeah..." she looked thoughtful for a moment. "Are we enemies, John?” she squinted at him.

John’s breath caught in his throat at that. Even he didn’t have an answer, and that question had given her eyes clarity for a moment before the Bliss apparently took back over. He opened his mouth, only for her to smack his cheek lightly.

“Good to know you don’t know either.”

“Why. Are. You. Telling. Me. This?” John repeated.

“Cause you kinda sorta saved my life… or a lifetime of embarrassment. Figured that if I’m dying it was only fair I return the favor and tell you you did something right for once, considering all your brother seems to tell you is how wrong you are.”

John shook his head. “You’ve got a weird sense of moral priorities, you know that?”

She shrugged. “I’m _The_  Deputy. I’m the underdog that won. If I go, there’s gotta be another underdog that takes care of the Big Bad Wolf. If that's you, so be it." 

He wanted to laugh again. Even her metaphors were failing again. “I thought I was the Big Bad Wolf, considering our last meeting.”

“Naw,” she shook her head, but didn’t elaborate.

John stared at her for a while, then let out a disbelieving scoff. “You are… the strangest woman I’ve ever met.”

She shrugged and let out a deep sigh; one that John realized was far too deep and even for someone who was dying of stab wounds- or whatever the Hell those injuries appeared to be. In hinsight, she had been talking an awful lot for someone who was supposedly dying. He let out an annoyed growl and practically lunged for her. He wasn’t sure how it fared that her resulting flinch was still far too slow to be entirely healthy, either. He took hold of the bottom of her shirt and yanked up to survey the damage her own stupidity and Faith had caused- or the lack thereof, if his suspicions were correct.

“Ah, God, what is your obsession with getting me half naked? I’m fucking dying and you do this, I didn’t take you as a fucking _necro_ ,” she protested, again, batting at his hands with still-dulled reflexes.

John wrestled her hands away, then pinned them under one of his knees when he straddled her to keep her down. He wasn’t sure what to think when her stomach was covered in blood, but her wounds were hardly as fatal as she was leading him to believe, or believed herself. The Bliss probably made the pain from those two wounds excruciating, so of course she believed she was dying. Most of the blood must've been Faith's if her story had any merit, which he knew it did. The couple of wounds were jagged and deep and would most likely scar. but she'd live- if she got the proper attention- that he was _not_ going to provide.  He respected her. He wasn't going to hand her the victory so easily.  That he would not provide. That much was certain. “Good news, Deputy. You aren’t dying. Not anytime soon, I imagine. There’s still time for your Confession and Atonement when you’re… ready.”

“Wha…?” she blinked at him.

John hadn’t intended on answering, but even if he had, the sound of the distant engine of a plane interrupted the resulting silence. The engine sputtered every so often, which was a dead giveaway that it was Nick Rye’s precious Carmina. John sighed, then got up in order to hook his arms under hers and pulled her a few feet into the clearing at the edge of the hill. Nick would have to be as blind as he was foolish to miss her. “Get well soon, Wrath. I don’t like being kept waiting.”

He got up without another word and went back into the treeline, something in the back of his mind screaming at him about how bad of an idea this was, he had just made a mistake, this would end in disaster. Another part of him just enjoyed that he’d still have her particular brand of challenge to deal with. By the sound of it, the Bliss had already made the Deputy focus more on Carmina approaching than him retreating. One of his people had heard a resident of Falls End tell the Deputy about how much he craved a good mental fight, how he needed something to toy with. This was no different.

And so he let her go.

Days later, he was hardly surprised when she radioed him, claiming that whatever she had said was null and void, she still had no intention of fully confessing and the like. He had responded that he hardly believed her after ‘their moment’ in order to get everyone on her side to question just what had happened. Things were back to normal. The cat and mouse game was intact, and he was pleased.

Joseph, as expected, was not, though there was something new in his eyes that John didn’t place when Joseph had asked about his lack of progress in turning the Deputy’s head their way. Of course his older brother would find issue with him working on finding common ground and a begrudging respect for the Deputy, when Joseph himself had insisted he ‘had to love them.’ The more he thought about it, the more he found that Joseph was a hypocrite- which proved the Deputy’s blissed-out point about the underdog, and as conflicted as he was about _her_ , he didn’t want to go down that road with Joseph. He _couldn’t_. And so he tried to reel in that respect and threw himself into his work for the Project.

Fate, however, had other plans. He should've known everything was bound to come crashing down where their relationship was concerned.

A month later, the Deputy had killed Jacob.

As… complex and conflicting as his feelings had been on who Jacob had become, the death of his brother, his childhood protector, his _hero_ had left a hole in his heart. It was enough to solidify the mistrust and hatred he was trying to re-manifest towards the Deputy. All she did was take. And now she had done so much more than she had when he had first attempted to get her to Confess; When he had first let her escape for the thrill of the chase. What a mistake that had been. He had been an emotionally driven mess up til then. 'Do not be derived by fools.' _He was_ the fool. And _she_ was going to _pay_. 

Another two months passed, the Deputy had taken every single outpost he had fought hard to maintain, taken out all of his silos, destroyed all the roadblocks, saved all of the people they had taken, and John was done with the other Wrath incarnate. He had taken a small army with him to Falls End, stormed Mary May’s bar where he was delighted to find her best friend Nick already, dragged everyone to the Church and gotten to work preparing for the Deputy’s Atonement. He wasn’t going to grant her a choice this time around. He’d see to that. And so he called her, being sure to mention not liking to be kept waiting, just to remind her of the last kindness he had extended to her, ensuring it would be his last.

“I’m on my way, Asshole. Hurt any of them and I’ll end you,”  had been her reply.

“Well, if you’re saying that, you haven’t been paying attention,” he countered. He snapped the radio off before she could protest, sat down, and waited.

 _Let me not be derived by fools_ , indeed.

He hadn’t even _tried_ to live by that code.  

But that was all about to change. He’d be sure of it.


	4. Wrath

Everything _hurt._

Considering he could’ve been dead it could’ve been worse, but John knew he wasn’t far off from that, either.

He scanned the horizon. The Deputy- _fucking_ _Wrath_ had taken special care in _not_ shooting at Affirmation’s cockpit. _Why_ she had done that was the question. He had seen her land the plane a couple of hundred feet away from him. She’d be on him before too much longer. And then the showdown would _really_ begin.

“ _You are destined to be slain by your own sin,”_ Joseph had said.

 _Fuck_.

Faith was gone. Jacob was gone. Friends were gone. He was hardly mentally in the fight anymore. His Depu- _no_ , **_Wrath_ ** was getting closer to the brink of destruction. He was just tired and confused and in terrible pain from getting thrown around the cockpit during the fight. Dying was starting to sound welcome. But he wouldn’t make it easy for her, either.

So when she charged at him from a spot in the woods they had landed in, he had gone to fire off a round that would’ve been a direct shot to the chest- if _something_ hadn’t stayed his goddamn trigger finger.

He had some understanding from Project reports that she was a sniper that worked from a distance and let her little friend Boshaw do everything close range. So the fact that she had come in for close combat while holding a .44 was something. And then he realized she had gotten _too close_. He expected a quick, painful death and closed his eyes to welcome it… but it didn’t come.

Instead, she punched him in the face- enough to smart but not do real damage, and then she was _literally_ _on_ him. He felt himself hit the ground with her on top of him before he had even registered she had tackled him.

With a snarl and a show of strength he didn’t know he still had in him, he went to flip them so he could pin her, which set both of them off balance and they ended up falling over each other, locked at the forearms and shins.

Her answering shout of, “STOP!” rang in his ears. “I have _fucking had it with all this,_ do you understand me?! Stop!” she dug in her knees to stop their descent.

John would’ve scoffed if his lungs weren’t burning. Oh, he _did_ understand. He was probably the _only_ _one_ who _fully_ understood her in the county. He thrashed once more out of spite, then stopped when she unclenched her fists and laid her hands flat out on his chest - some bastardization of a lover’s touch, a traitorous part of his mind supplied. He would’ve laughed at that too. She was as much of a murderer as he was, she had killed his family, but there was still that _something_ that went beyond _baser_ instincts that gripped his chest any time she was around him. A need for her that went beyond desiring to be in this exact position with her, in another time, another place, another _life._

And then, far gentler than the last two she had spoken, barely louder than a whisper, she implored again: “ _Stop_.”

“I can’t,” he forced out, but made no move to fight her again. “Not until you do.”

She huffed out a breath. “ _I_ can’t.”

“Quite the predicament we’re in,” he countered.

She groaned in tiredness or pain- probably both, and rolled off of him- and to his own surprise, he made no move to get the upper hand.

There was something to be said for the two biggest power players in the Valley’s part in the holy war laying shoulder to shoulder, fight just about gone from their bones, with only the Yes sign stretched out stop the hill above them as their witness.

“I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to kill anyone else,” she said quietly. “I’ve had enough death.”

“It’s a little too late for that,” he spat.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

John scoffed an turned to her. “Why the kindness, Deputy? What makes me so fucking special that you couldn’t extend the offer to my brothers and sister?”

“The whole unmaking-me-and-turning-me-into-a-weapon thing for starters. And I already told you how I feel about Faith. And Joseph… is just....  Joseph.”

Now that got him. He mustered his strength in order to move above her, propping himself up with a shaky arm placed just beside her shoulder. “What if he’s right? Did you ever stop to think about that?”

Ever the wrathful, she returned his gesture in kind, shoved him back so he was laying on the ground again and straddled his thighs for good measure this time.

Still, he could sense the strength leaving her body, and even after hate had finally, finally started to form in his gut for the woman above him, something in him _ached_. No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was him _or_ her. She couldn’t die _with_ him. She was stronger than that. _Better_ than that. If he was going to die, he was damned sure she was going to be his champion in fixing things. He felt her get a hold of that damned key that meant so much around his neck, and he grabbed at her shirt and yanked her forward. He still needed to _try, damn it. It was always try with her. Try, try, try, and always fail. Not this time_. “Everyone thinks he’s crazy, but he’s not…” he glanced up at the woods around them, trying to get her to do the same. “Look around you, this world is on the brink, you can feel it in your bones.  Look at the headlines, look who’s in charge!” he couldn’t help but feel prideful when he managed to scoff at that, and almost did again when his body denied him more than a moment and had him surrender to a coughing fit. He still almost laughed again when she had the nerve to look guilty and raised herself up a bit to get off of him. His heart thrummed again. For such a sinner, for such a nightmare, she had _such fucking heart_ , such empathy even for an enemy it was near nauseating. “You want this key because you think you’re saving people but they’re already safe. We had a plan…”

“Your plan is bullshit. People don’t murder to save people.”

“You should talk,” John countered. He shook his head. “You don’t understand. You don’t believe. You don't care-”

“God do you ever shut up?!” she hissed. “I might not understand your family’s bullshit but don’t you dare tell me I don’t care. I care. I wouldn’t fucking be here if I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be trying to fucking stop you. Same end, different means,” she hissed. She looked at the key again and got a solid hold on it, then froze when he grabbed her wrist- but didn’t stop her. She looked up at him.

John held her gaze for a mere couple of seconds that passed like ages. And then he chose. He wasn’t going to die without one particular question about her got answered. And so he surged forward and kissed her. It was rough and at a bad angle, all determination and repressed spite. Still, he had gotten his answer about how she tasted- and there was another laughable thing when all he could come up with was _heavenly_ to describe it. Or maybe that was the lightheadedness talking  She reared back and slapped him hard across the face, and part of him had merely supplied ‘ _fair_ ’ before he leaned back, finally accepting defeat. He gripped her wrist tighter, his thumb reaching up to stroke along her palm nearly of its own accord before he applied enough pressure and the clasp at the back of his neck came loose. “Do. Not. Make me regret this. Fix this, Deputy. For all of us...” his chest heaved as a particular bolt of pain struck through his entire body; “ _them_ ,” he corrected.

She stared at him for a while, eyes unfocused.

Or seemingly unfocused, he realized after a moment. He knew that look. It was that same one she had given him in his bunker before he had wheeled Hudson away. The one where she was hatching a plan that wasn’t going to end well for the Project. The one where Wrath had taken over and brought her so close to saving the day, if not for that one extra door between her and him.

“Us,” she said after a while. “You’re gonna be here to see it.”

John grinned. “My minutes are numbered here, Deputy.”

“No. They’re not. You’re just a dramatic little asshole,” she mused. “I will fix it… and you’re gonna help me.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?” John asked.

“Didn’t say we were. Just said you’re gonna help me."

He laughed again, and it stung. “You never did make any sense, my dear.”

“Don’t have to make sense. Just gotta get shit done.”

“Oh? So what’s your plan?”

“You don’t need to know.”

“If I’m in on it, I think I do.”  He didn’t have any single clue what the Hell she was getting at, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued. Maybe that was the lightheadedness, too.

She raised herself off of her knees in order to pull her feet up and under her to take her weight. “Yeah, well, maybe the ‘you’re gonna help’’ thing was an overstatement.”

He shook his head. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that.”

“No I'm not.”

Before he could respond, he caught her hand moving somewhere behind her, and before he could even register the movement fully, he saw something small and dark grey coming at him at full speed from the side, and then suddenly his world had gone dark.

* * *

 

He woke up in a different sort of darkness, but he was certainly not dead. That was a good start. His vision swam for a moment, but evened out soon enough. He was cuffed to some metal shelf in a bunker. There were glass shards scattered around- probably meant to keep him there if he got cocky and tried to escape. He tried to pull free just to be sure, and was unsuccessful. He growled and looked around, desperate to find any clue as to where he was. One of the Valley’s, if the paint job was any indication. He looked around. This was William Heller’s bunker.  

The Deputy had dropped him in a bunker that was barely a quarter of a mile from _his_ bunker, and just off a main road. His own people would probably investigate his disappearance soon, and the fact that they had taken Heller a while ago and left the place abandoned, so this would be one of the first places they would look. And if they didn’t, Joseph would.

Wrath had kept to her namesake and not thought her plan through at all. It was a sloppy plan, whatever it was. Still, his interest was piqued.

And so he waited diligently.

It had been a matter of hours when the Deputy showed back, looking every bit… not her sin. She looked tired and scared and angry all at once, even when she took the cuffs off and explained they needed to talk- and that he was going somewhere with her. Oh, this was going to be _wonderful._

A mere couple of hours after that, Joseph- _the only person he had left in this fucking cruel, sinful world_ had betray him, Eden's Gates had been closed to him, he was running for his life from his _own fucking people_ , and rage was coursing through his veins more than it had in his entire life. He wanted to destroy and kill every person who had ever wronged him, because it was what he was _fucking good_ at.

It isn’t until he had stopped behind a tree that bore a striking resemblance to _his and the Deputy's tree_  that he realized in order to have his brother pay for _his_ _Pride_ , he was probably going to _need_  the Deputy's help. Of course, he fully intended to take out some of that rage on her first. If she fell by his hand for her part in the betrayal, so be it. He would deal with it and take it in strides. 

_They were Wrath, after all._


End file.
